


As love

by DSJWinchester



Series: Nicknames [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Brotherly Love, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:13:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DSJWinchester/pseuds/DSJWinchester
Summary: Sam thinks about his nicknames as given to him by Dean“It wasn’t always used in love, his nicknames. There were times when Dean would twist them lacing them with something hard hurtful. Bitch it would be a sneer not an endearment a way to goad Sam into something anything. Sammy could become an accusation a word dropped to push Sam away.”





	1. Part one

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2007 we knew so much less about this verse then.  
> enjoy

College had given Sam distance and time to think about things without the distraction of Dad and Dean. Trying to think clearly between his father and older brother was like trying to look directly into the sun, impossible.  
His thoughts his first night in college where focused on Dean. This was his first night, first full night in a room that did not have Dean in the other bed. Dean had spent the start of many nights in a bed that was not next to Sam but he always came back always. Sam had always slept best when Dean was close enough to touch. Dean knew that. It was one of a million things that just was between them.  
Lying in bed with a stranger in the room was odd. He normally slept on his stomach but he couldn’t not tonight. It made him feel too open, empty with no one there to watch his back. So he lay on his back but sleep would not come.  
He heard Dean’s laughter in his head. Bitch his voice sneered. Only Dean could make the word into an endearment. Bitch had been Dean’s nickname for Sam, it was Sammy, Princess, than bitch. Sam tried to remember the first time Dean had called him bitch out of love rather than anger. There was no one moment when it clicked that Dean's bitch was equivalent to a squirt or little bro. Dean had cursed for almost as long as Sam could remember. Sam was sure Dean didn't curse when he was very young but it was Dean so it was hard to say.  
He remembered when he was five and they were living in Texas. Dad was working a case, Dean was babysitting. Even at 9 Dean made a better babysitter than the locale girls. He had made Sam a peanut butter sandwich. Sam never really like jelly squirming around his peanut butter he remembered Dean made the sandwich perfect, he cut it in to four equal squares. At 9 Dean was already more than proficient with the use of a knife. They were eating the sandwich on the steps. Dean went inside to get them drinks. He only allowed Sam to stay on the steps because he could see Sam if he left the front door open and the kitchen was only 14 paces from the front steps. Dean counted twice. The boy from the house next door walked over, a smile on his round face. He was a fat kid taller than Dean and two years older. He liked to bother Sam pinch his cheek, call him pretty boy. Once when Sam was playing hide and seek he found Sam before Dean and throw him on the floor he shoved Sam face in the dirt. He sat on Sam legs and told him a story about a kid who died from eating dirt he stayed there, his weight pressing down on Sam’s legs until his mother called him to come in.  
When Dean found him Sam still lay in the dirty crying. Dean carried him to the house he put Sam in the bath and helped him clean up. They hadn’t played hide and seek since. Sam couldn’t at 18 remember the boy’s name but he remembers his bright blue eyes and even at five he thought it wrong for such a cruel ugly boy to have such pretty eyes.  
That day he sat by Sam on the stoop he smiled, bright blue eyes twinkling. He reached over and grabbed hold of Sam’s stomach and twisted hard. Sam screamed, Dean was out the door before the scream had fully left his mouth. Dean shoved the boy who stumbled down the steps laughing. Dean stood for an instant watching the boy laugh, his lips pulled into a tight line. Then he swung his small fist contacting with the kid’s face, he swung again than again, each time his fist slamming into the boy’s face. The boy screamed. Dean's knee shoved into his crotch turning his scream in to a grumbled gasp. Dean was screaming at him the dirty words their dad only whisper late at night when he was angry and thought Sam was asleep. The boy fell over in the dirt gasping for air. Dean grabbed Sam arm and dragged him into the rented house. He slammed and locked the door. Sam started crying he didn’t know why. Dean rolled his eyes mumbling under his breath about soft little brothers but he lifted Sam up easy resting Sam head on his shoulder and carried him to their room. He rest Sam on the bed and tickled him till he laughed. Back than he was still only Sammy.  
\-------------------------------------------  
Sam rolled on to his side, back to the wall. His roommate snored a loud griping sound that wafted throw the room. A deep brassy sound that seem to start somewhere in his gut. A night sound as unfamiliar as the room in which Sam lay. Unfamiliar rooms where not out of the ordinary but a room without Dean one bed away was shockingly hard to deal with. He had never had his own bedroom and unlike most kids he never wanted one. Not even when Dean was being a serial dick or a moody asshole or when Dean used their room for things other than sleeping.  
Not even when he came home from wining first place in the spelling bee when he was 10 and found Dean naked in the room with a girl.   
Sam stormed into the house he was angry and worried he had waited 45 minutes in front the school for Dean who never showed. Dean never forgot to pick up Sam. No matter what he did instead of going to school, at 2:00 p.m. Dean was there to take Sam hand and drag him home.   
Sam dropped his school bag on the kitchen floor, placed his small trophy on the table and walked down the narrow hall to their room. He flung open the bedroom door. Dean screamed at him for walking in. The girl laughed and slide under the cover. Sam told Dean to fuck off and ran out the room.   
It took four minutes for Dean to find him hiding under the porch of their rented house in Montana. Dean was barefoot and shirtless his jeans where hastily pulled on and not buttoned. He was tall for his age long and lean. Sam watched him walk towards him angry that Dean could look like that, confident easy. The sun washed over him but never dulled him, Dean always managed to look brighter. As he got closer Sam saw that he looked pissed. Dean dropped to his knees, he had to crawl to get under the porch. Sam tried to get away from him but the wall locked him in. Dean moved in and wrapped his arms around Sam. He was warm and smelt like something not Dean, thick, and musky. Sam hugged him back anyway.  
“I’m sorry Sammy I forgot to come pick you up.”  
“You never forget to pick me up.” Sammy could feel the tears at the back of his eyes. He bit his lip to try and hold them back. Dean would only pinch him and call him a baby if he saw Sammy’s tears. Dean pulled away from the hug a smirk on his face. “There a first time for everything but don’t worry Sammy it the last time. I won’t forget you again.”  
“You where having sex.”  
Dean’s smirk turned into a complete smile full of sun and shiny teeth. “Fuck yeah.”   
Sam looked away. “You left her alone in the house.”  
“Yeah she ain’t gone dig around. Stop pouting Sammy. Come on I’ll give you a piggy back ride.”  
“I’m too old for piggy back rides.”  
Dean rolled his eyes and crawled out from under the house. Sam clambered after him. He hurled himself at Dean who hosted him up on his back and carried him into the house. The girl was waiting at the kitchen table she was making sandwiches. She smiled an awkward thing that twisting up her full lips.  
“I’m sorry you had to see that Sam.”  
Sam blushed and rests his face against Dean’s shoulder “It’s okay” Dean laughed and swung Sam down resting his feet on the ground. He lent in and pinched Sam cheek. “Ah Sammy little bitch.” Sam slapped Dean hard on the stomach. Dean laughed and danced away from him. He was still Sammy than but sometime he was bitch.


	2. part two

The room was still dark but Sam could feel the sun coming. He’d been in bed for over six hours and still sleep hadn’t come. It was his third month in this room and he still wasn’t use to sleeping here, in this bed, in this space. He’d spent less time in a lot of places, a night, a week, but always with Dean. He was capable of this, being alone. He wanted to be capable of this. 

The sound of Ryan’s snores where muffled by the pillow Sam had placed over his face. The loud winded sound, muffled or unmuffled did nothing to bring Sam closer to sleep. There was a feeling in his, a grazing itch in the center of him that had sprung up as he got ready for bed and had yet to leave him. He wished suddenly for a CD. Any of Dean’s CD’s that he sometimes played late at night when he couldn’t sleep but thought Sam was. He left them behind. He left most of his things behind. Dean would keep them. He was sure of that. Dad had told him to never come back but Dean would come to him. He believed that. It was easier to believe lying under his cover with the sun still an hour away, than it was to believe under the glare of bright California sun. But always he believed. Dean always came back for Sam.   
He rolled on to his side trying to shake the memories lose. They held him elevated above sleep. The sound of Dean’s laughter as he tackled Sam to the floor. The sound of his dad voice mumbling nonsense words as he hugged Sam hard and fierce after the first time Sam made a kill. He felt them sometimes, with his eyes closed tight, they were so close he swore he felt them, dad’s hand heavy on his shoulder, Dean’s arm warp tight around his waist as he pulled Sam back. Then he opened his eyes and they were gone. 

He never thought he would miss them this much. It never seemed when he was with them that they were close. They were all he had but since the surge of hormones and growth there had been a growing distance between him and them. Between the soldiers and the diplomat. They were warriors and he was at best a reluctant fighter. He wanted to be normal and they could not exist in a world with rules, bounders. To cage them would be to break them. He could not do that, not to his father not to Dean. Especially not to Dean who seem to thrive on constant free movement. God Dean. He felt silly, small, younger than he’d felt in years. Tears tingled behind his eyes. Something was wrong that was the only thing that could explain this sudden feel of desperateness. He rolled over and lost the battle he’d been fighting since he got into bed six hours ago. He picked up his cell phone dialing the number he had not dialed in weeks.  
Dean picks up on the sixth ring   
“What the fuck do you want bitch it’s six in the fucking morning.” his voice sounds, tired, worn, so stretched Sam wanted to reach through the phone and hug him. Even if that was possible Dean would never let him get away with it. He hardens his voice. “Did you go hunting tonight.”  
“What’s it to you.”  
“Are you okay? Is dad okay.”  
“We’re fine.” He could hear the lie in Dean’s voice.  
“Dean, don’t fuck with me.”  
“I ain’t fucking with you Sammy we’re fine.”  
“Let me talk to dad.”  
”He’s busy right now.”  
“Doing what.”  
“Stitching up my leg.”  
“You fucking liar you said you were fine.”  
Dean laughs on the other end, it sounds far and hollow. Sam misses him.   
“I’ll live dude. God you are such a fucking princess.”   
The phone is shifted. He hears muffled voices than his father’s voice on the other line.   
“Don’t worry Sam, Dean will be fine the other guy looked a lot worst.”  
“Dad hi. Are you umm are you okay.”  
“I’m fine Sam. We’re both fine just a few cuts and bruise we’ll live….. Are you doing well?”  
“Great. I’m doing great.”  
”Getting good grades?”  
“Yeah.”  
“That’s good Sam” he was quite for a moment. Sam could feel him through the phone, his silent demanding presents that had been the backdrop to Sam’s childhood. When he speaks again his voice is both heavy and soft, full of words Sam know they would never verbalize.   
“Dean wants to talk to you….Listen, Sammy take care of yourself watch your back.” His father hadn’t called him Sammy in years. He heard the phone moving around. Than Dean’s laughter explodes over the line. Sam felt a shock go through him. The tight frantic feeling that had plagued him all night is gone. Was this normal to react so severely to his brother’s laughter.   
“You still there Sammy.”  
“My name is Sam.”  
“Your name is bitch.”  
“You are such a 4 year old. I don’t know why I bother calling you.”  
“Because you would worry your prissy little brain away to nothing if you didn’t call.”  
“You are so vain for no reason at all.”  
Dean laughs. “Didn’t you get the memo Sammy I’m hot.”  
”Sam. My name is Sam. Fuck Dean it’s been six years can’t you call me Sam.”  
“I’ll call you bitch. Look I got to go. The pills are starting to get to me and we still have to put up a few wards. Let me call you tomorrow.”  
“You won’t call. Do you want me to call you?”  
“I’ll call. Dude stop being such a girl.”  
”Someone has to be sensible. If you attribute sensibility with femininity that is not my problem. You should take that issue up with a good shrink.”  
Dean snorts on the other end. “Your college poofs telling you all that shit princess.”  
Sam rolls his eyes before remembering Dean couldn’t see it.  
“I hate you.”  
Dean was back to laughing. Sam wished he could see him, the way his eyes crinkled up at the side when he really got into it.   
“I’m slipping Sammy I call you tomorrow.”  
“Yeah you do that. Tell dad I said bye.”  
“Will do bitch.”   
Dean hung up without a good bye. Sam rests his phone on the nightstand and rolled on his back eyes closed. Dean was okay. Dad didn’t sound like he was still angry. Not the hot ferocious anger he held when Sam last saw him. Maybe he got over it. Maybe he didn’t mean forever, just not for awhile. Sam snuggled under the covers, Ryan’s snoring was starting to even out, he would be getting up soon.   
Sam was pretty sure he would never be just Sam to Dean, there would always be other names for him. He didn’t mind. This was something Sam could only admit in the semi darkness of his dorm room. They were not unwanted, the other names, not so much anymore. It didn’t matter what Dean called him, as long as Dean was smiling as he said it.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Sam awoken late and sticky. His sheets damp from sweat among other things. The room had been empty, Ryan gone off to his afternoon class. Sam showered dress ran to his late afternoon class and from there to study group. His cell phone silent the whole afternoon and into late evening. Dean would call he was sure of it, if not today than tomorrow or the day after.   
Sam lay stretched out on his bed staring up at the ceiling, dinner still heavy in his gut. The room was quite beyond the sound of the click of computer keys as Ryan typed. Dean had promised to call, so far he hadn’t. Sam watched the ceiling.

They’re not so close anymore. Not like when he was small and Dean had no choice but to take him everywhere. Not like that short span of space when Sam was 15 than 16 and not so angry and Dean wanted to take him everywhere. They talked more now that Sam was away. More than they talked for his last two years traveling with them. They still said nothing. When they talked they skipping over the riff, dad, the important things. They usually ended up fighting but it was shallow, stupid, fighting nothing that lasted to long or brought out the pain. Dean would never leave things between them broken. Not when he wasn’t close enough to fix it.   
Sam knew when Dean was really angry at him he could feel it, the anger vibrating cutting through every word.   
It wasn’t always used in love, his nicknames. There were times when Dean would twist them lacing them with something hard hurtful. Bitch it would be a sneer not an endearment a way to goad Sam into something anything. Sammy could become an accusation a word dropped to push Sam away. Dean knew the power of words. He saw the effect, they could cast a spell, bring a man to his knees. Dean knew that words could cut just as rash and hastily as a well sharpen knife he knew it and he used them just as fast and fiercely as he used any other weapon their dad taught them to use.   
Sam missed him now. Missed him like an ache. He wouldn’t lie to himself. That could get him killed. Dean wasn’t always the best older brother in the world. He was human. He had flaws and damaged done to him, done by him. He was a wondrous broken thing with sharp teeth and a killer grin. There were walls in Dean so thick Sam would break if he hurled himself against them, crack under the weight that held them firm. So he didn’t fight. He never fought back not against Dean, not when he was younger. Not so sure of what he would do now. It was easier to fall under Dean, to let him pull back, than pull Sam up.   
Dean was never the one he fought with. It was dad always dad. Stubborn arrogant dad, who held them both too close and too far. Who never gave enough, not for real hate. Dean he could never hate, even when he was full of anger and sharp words. Dean was big brother, guard, protector, giver of nicknames, best friend, tormentor, closest friend, at times only friend, sometimes enemy, at all times most beloved.  
Fin


End file.
